


Hierophant Redux

by xenosaurus



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Demons, Friendship, Future Fic, Horror Elements, Implied/Referenced Sex, LGBT Themes, M/M, Married Couple, Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Team as Family, mentoring, moderate gore, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 09:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenosaurus/pseuds/xenosaurus
Summary: Of all the things Kiyoji expected his manager would be able to give him advice on, Persona summoning was not one of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, remember that "Akira mentors a new persona team" fic concept? I'm writing it again! If you haven't read anything else I've written about this, that's probably good, because I changed a bunch of it to create a more coherent and engaging storyline.
> 
> Trigger warnings will be listed at the beginning of chapters because this does get pretty heavy at times.
> 
> A big, cuddly thank you to my wonderful beta Benny, who isn't even IN this fandom but has been nothing but helpful and supportive <3
> 
> **EDIT:** as a general warning, this fic does contain discussion of chronic illness, sexual harassment, and child abuse, including moments where characters have their internalized harmful ideas about their own experiences thrown in their face by demons. Please be careful if this might be an issue for you!

Broken glass scrapes against the stone floor as Kiyoji walks. It’s a horrible sound, and it echoes.

The room he’s in is some kind of grand hall, with a ceiling that stretches up into nothingness. The walls are made of the same old stone as the floor and broken up by huge, empty window frames. There are remnants of colorful glass in their corners, but they’re hopelessly broken, creating the nightmare of scratching and crunching beneath Kiyoji’s feet.

He only recognizes it as a church and not a castle because of the pews, rotting wood upholstered with strangely pristine velvet. He’s never been in one before, but he’s seen them in movies. They never looked like this, torn apart like a bomb had gone off, and the windows never faced out into pure, unearthly blackness.

He gets halfway across the room before he notices the people sitting in the front row.

The person closer to him is a little girl with almost-white blonde hair and an immaculate blue dress. She’s clutching an enormous, ornate book to her chest like it’s a teddy bear. Next to her is a hunched old man with a beakish nose and a terrifying look in his eye.

They turn to him in unison. The little girl gasps.

“You-- you aren’t supposed to be here!”

The old man doesn’t seem bothered, only curious. He tilts his head, looking at Kiyoji appraisingly.

“Hm. How strange. An uninvited guest,” he says, drawing out the word ‘uninvited’ in a way that makes Kiyoji uneasy.

“Who let him in?” the little girl asks, frantic.

“Oh, I’m sure that will become obvious in time. I think it may be time to repay old debts,” the old man says, and _smiles_.

*

“NII-SAN, BREAKFAST!”

That’s all the warning Kiyoji gets before his youngest brother lands on top of him, knees first. He wheezes out something that might have been a swear if he could breathe, rolling over and shoving Taro off of him. His brother just laughs as he goes down.

“I _like_ having ribs, you little--” Kiyoji reaches over to try to pull Taro into a headlock, but Taro has the being-awake advantage and rolls right out of the way. He pops up off the floor like it’s nothing and darts out into the hallway. Kiyoji doesn’t bother to chase him, dropping his head back onto his pillow with a groan.

There’s no point in trying to go back to sleep. Taro is only the first wave; if Kiyoji isn’t down for breakfast in ten minutes, their mother will send Daisuke next.

He puts on his school uniform in a sleepy daze, and makes an effort to fix his hair. He keeps it pretty short, but it never lays flat like he wants it to.

When he finally leaves his room for the kitchen, he runs into Daisuke in the hallway. His middle brother is ten, only a year older than Taro, but Daisuke hit a growth spurt recently. The kid’s growing like a weed.

“Aw, man, you’re awake,” Daisuke says, pouting. Kiyoji has no doubt that the cup of ice water in his brother’s hand was going to be poured on his head if he was still in bed right now.

“You’re both demons and I’m getting an exorcist,” Kiyoji grumbles, pushing past Daisuke.

The kitchen smells like salmon and store-bought miso broth, the same as every morning. Kiyoji’s dad has already left for work, and his mom is watching a game show on the tiny kitchen television. She’s too absorbed to notice Taro doing last night’s homework at the table.

“You are so lucky I’m not a snitch,” Kiyoji hisses as he takes his usual seat. Taro just sticks his tongue out, totally unrepentant.

The rest of breakfast is completely normal. Daisuke, much nicer to his younger brother than to his older one, reads over Taro’s shoulder and points out kanji mistakes, while Kiyoji pays vague attention to their mother’s game show.

Still, Kiyoji can’t shake a sense that something is off. It isn’t unusual for a nightmare to knock him off-kilter, but meeting a creepy old guy in a church isn’t much of a nightmare. He thinks about it while he walks to the train station; Fuyumi is into dream analysis, maybe she’ll have some insight.

His friends get on the train at a different station, so he decides to text her while he waits.

`**Kiyoji:** what do churches mean in dreams?`

`**Fuyumi:** ???`

`**Fuyumi:** Good morning to you too, Kiyoji-kun. (￢_￢)`

`**Kiyoji:** lol, sorry, good morning fuyumi!!`

`**Fuyumi:** What’s the context here? Dreams aren’t that straightforward, a church doesn’t mean just one thing.`

`**Kiyoji:** I was in a church but it was like, bombed out or something? there was glass all over the floor`

`**Fuyumi:** The destruction of religious imagery isn’t usually a good sign, but it also isn’t your religion. That complicates things. What was happening there?`

`**Fuyumi:** Shinsuke says hello, by the way. He’s reading over my shoulder and insisting you’re worried about not having a date for Christmas.`

`**Fuyumi:** He’s full of shit.〜☆`

Kiyoji is on the train by the time he gets that text, and it makes him laugh. He immediately flushes with embarrassment; a quick glance confirms that a few people are looking at him. The businessman standing directly opposite him looks particularly unimpressed, but there’s also a teenaged girl in an oversized Hello Kitty hoodie who makes eye contact, and that’s almost worse. He ducks his head to hide in his phone, ears burning.

`**Kiyoji:** remind him that he doesn’t have a date for christmas either`

`**Fuyumi:** Done.`

`**Fuyumi:** He says bringing that up is deflecting.`

`**Fuyumi:** I told him to text you himself if he wants to argue about this. It’s kind of stupid, Kiyoji-kun. No offense.`

`**Fuyumi:** Well. Moderate offense.`

The train doors open and a familiar station name is announced. Kiyoji leans so he can see out the doors. This is Chikara’s stop, but it’s always a crapshoot if he’s going to come to school.

No luck today, it seems. He makes a group text this time, looping Shinsuke into the conversation.

`**Kiyoji:** I think chikara’s sick again (>﹏<)`

`**Kiyoji:** just passed his stop`

`**Shinsuke:** shit again??`

`**Shinsuke:** he was feeling better on saturday that sucks`

`**Fuyumi:** His horoscope isn’t great. We should go to the shrine after school and make an offering for his health.`

`**Kiyoji:** ugh I have work today, I can’t`

`**Kiyoji:** leblanc’s pretty close to his house, though, I’ll go visit him afterwards`

`**Fuyumi:** Might as well bring him his homework when you go.`

`**Shinsuke:** i think he would be happier if you forgot it (×_×)`

*

Shinsuke and Fuyumi get to school before Kiyoji; he finds them at the shoe lockers. Fuyumi is a tall girl with long hair sensibly braided to keep it out of her face, minimal makeup, and thin-framed purple glasses. Shinsuke is wiry with bangs that desperately need a trim and a bad habit of biting his lips until they bleed. Along with Chikara, they’ve been Kiyoji’s best friends since elementary school.

“Good morning, Kiyoji-kun,” Fuyumi says, smiling brightly. For all her sensible practicality, she’s a pretty upbeat girl.

“Yo,” Shinsuke adds, grinning.

“You’re both way too peppy today,” Kiyoji sighs, taking his indoor shoes from his locker.

Shinsuke snickers. “How’d your baby brother wake you up today?”

“Cannonball to the ribcage,” Kiyoji says, wincing theatrically. “He’s going to be the death of me.”

“If your horoscope ever predicts death by fratricide, I’ll do my utmost to give you advance warning,” Fuyumi says.

“Thanks, Fuyumi, you’re the best,” Kiyoji says, closing his locker.

“So, what kind of fucked up church dream did you have last night, dude?” Shinsuke asks.

“Ugh, it was so _weird_. There was a creepy old guy, and a weird little girl dressed up like a doll? And the whole place looked like it had been left to rot for a hundred years, and then they went to fix it, but all they did was replace all the upholstery with velvet.”

“You didn’t mention the people before,” Fuyumi says thoughtfully. She’s leading the way to their classroom while they talk, pointedly ignoring two third-year girls currently shoving paper into the cracks of someone’s locker. Kiyoji recognizes one of them as Matsumi Mori, which means those are probably threats, not love notes. Pretending not to notice is the safest option.

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to hear about it,” Shinsuke groans. “Unless the little girl turned into some kind of bug monster or the old guy tried to eat you, how is this even a nightmare?”

“I never said it was a nightmare! I just said it was weird!” Kiyoji protests.

“It was implied!”

“Shinsuke-kun, shut up. Kiyoji-kun, tell me more about the velvet. It was the only pristine thing in the building?” Fuyumi asks, opening the door to their classroom. Class doesn’t start for ten minutes, so almost nobody is in their seats. It’s really just Ichiru Kamisaki, wearing noise cancelling headphones and staring at his phone, and Haruka Sato, dutifully studying for some quiz Kiyoji probably forgot about.

“We don’t need to hear about the velvet, I’ve already solved it. The old man is your future husband, and the girl is your daughter. It was a vision of the future!” Shinsuke says, gesturing grandly with both hands.

“Do you hear that, Kiyoji-kun? It sounds like someone I told to stop talking.”

Kiyoji snickers. Shinsuke grins and flips them both off.

“It isn’t fair to shut down my brilliant ideas while I’m outnumbered like this. Chikara would back me up,” Shinsuke insists.

“That’s only because Chikara thinks that pointing at random objects and claiming they’re my husband is _hilarious_. You two have equally terrible senses of humor,” Kiyoji sighs.

“You’re only a slight improvement, don’t get too cocky,” Fuyumi says, but her smile is fond.

“Noted,” Kiyoji says flatly, giving her a thumbs up.

*

The school day turns out to be just as normal as the morning was. There’s a quiz Kiyoji forgot to study for but still does okay on, Fuyumi and Shinsuke spend lunch having an extremely repetitive argument about tarot card readings, and Ichiru from the back corner vanishes for an hour to avoid public speaking. Kiyoji tells the teacher he’s bringing Chikara his homework before she can even ask, and then he’s off to work.

Cafe Leblanc is refreshing after a chaotic day at school. It’s quiet, with only the idle chatter of a few patrons and a half-muted television to break the silence. The smell of coffee with a hint of curry spice is oddly comforting, and Morgana, the manager’s cat, is asleep behind the counter when Kiyoji goes to get his apron. The cat is supposed to be confined to the art studio upstairs, but he’s an incredibly well-behaved animal and the rule is rarely followed.

“Ah, Enomoto-san. You’re early.”

Kiyoji straightens instinctively at the sound of Kitagawa’s voice. The manager’s husband is in and out of the cafe throughout the day, but it’s still rare for Kiyoji to run into him before Kurusu gives him his tasks. He hadn’t been fully in work mode yet.

“Good afternoon, Kitagawa-san!” Kiyoji says, bowing a little deeper than is really necessary. It earns him a contemplative look, and after a moment, Kitagawa nods to himself, like he’s just figured out some kind of worldly truth. It would look silly on a less elegant man, but Kitagawa pulls it off. He makes a loose braid and paint-stained clothes look almost royal.

“Akira will be back downstairs momentarily. I asked him to take a look at my current work in progress.”

“Okay! Thanks! Err-- did he tell you what he wants me to start with today?”

Kitagawa shakes his head.

“I’m afraid not. Why don’t you check on the customers?”

“Right! Sure!” Kiyoji says immediately, nearly tripping over his own shoes in his haste to follow instructions. It’s much harder to tell what Kitagawa is thinking than it is with Kurusu, who is a natural instructor and explains his expectations clearly. Kiyoji desperately wants to impress both of them; they’re the only adult gay men he knows. It’s the whole reason he applied to work here in the first place.

While Kiyoji checks in on the patrons, Kitagawa pours himself a cup of coffee and settles at the counter. He seems content to sit there silently until footsteps come down the stairs. Akira Kurusu looks a lot less like he walked out of an oil painting than his husband does; he wears glasses with sturdy frames and Kiyoji has never seen him without stubble.

Kiyoji glances up at the sound of the footsteps, just in time to see the two of them make eye contact. Kurusu smiles, something open and warm that reminds Kiyoji of his mom when his dad brings her flowers after work.

“You’re using my colors again,” Kurusu says. Kiyoji has no idea what he means, but there’s definite _meaning_ there. Kitagawa frowns a little, though.

“That critic you hate has noticed that tendency as well,” he says, thoughtfully.

“Yeah. That’s why I hate him. What does he have against shades of red?”

“The gulf between a unified color theme and an artistic rut is not a wide one,” Kitagawa says, but he’s smiling now.

“I’ve seen you in an artistic rut. This is not an artistic rut.”

Perfectly timed to sound like part of the conversation, Morgana meows. Kurusu snorts and leans over the counter to address him.

“Be nice,” he says.

“Oh. That reminds me. Enomoto-san is here early,” Kitagawa says, turning to look at Kiyoji, who very suddenly realizes he’s stopped working to eavesdrop.

Kurusu looks away from the cat to smile at Kiyoji. “So he is. Sorry, I should have given you your tasks right away. I’m a bit distracted today.”

“No! No, it’s fine! I mean, I’ve been working here for a month, I can totally clean tables or whatever without help, the art thing is really cool!”

He internally cringes at how awkward that sounded coming out of his mouth. The cat meows again, and Kurusu gives him a stern look before addressing Kiyoji again. The way he acts like Morgana is actually part of conversations is kind of an unusual quirk for an adult, but Kiyoji doesn’t really mind it.

“You should have Yusuke give you a tour of his studio sometime, if you’re interested.”

Kiyoji perks right up. “Really? That’d be okay?”

Yusuke nods, smiling serenely. “Of course. When you aren’t working, of course.”

“Awesome! I’d love to see your work!”

“Well, you’ve already seen some of it,” Kurusu says, a hint of pride in his voice as he gestures to some of the paintings on the walls.

“Oh! Um, yeah, that’s true…” Kiyoji says, embarrassed.

“The studio is an entirely different experience,” Kitagawa assures him. “Examining the artistic process can be just as satisfying as the final product, at times.”

“I do love to watch you paint,” Kurusu says, smiling at his husband.

The obvious affection there makes Kiyoji feel a little bit giddy.

*

By the end of his shift, Kiyoji is exhausted, but incredibly happy. Morgana even lets him give him a quick scratch behind the ears before he leaves for the day.

It’s a twenty minute walk to Chikara’s house, but Kiyoji isn’t bothered by it, even with the autumn chill setting in. He’s riding too high on seeing a future he’d actually want for himself to let anything get him down right now.

It’s dark by the time he gets to Chikara’s door, and he’s looking forward to being indoors for a bit. He knocks on the front door, shifting his bag a little on his shoulder.

Predictably, Chikara is the one who answers. He’s sick all the time, so his parents can rarely take the time off work to look after him unless he’s doing really badly. He doesn’t look _great_ right now, with unwashed hair and an unhealthy paleness to his face, but he’s on his feet and grinning at the sight of his friend.

“Kiyo-kun! Hey! You’re not my food delivery!”

Kiyoji laughs and grins right back. “I told you I was coming over, you dork.”

“Yeah, at _lunch_. In bored, sick Chikara time, that’s like six years,” Chikara says, taking a step back so Kiyoji can follow him into the house.

“Already finished that video game Shinsuke lent you?”

“Ugh, Shin’s taste in games is dumb, there’s no plot. Shooting everything in sight is boring.”

“Well, that’s gotta be more fun than what I brought you. It’s homework.”

Chikara groans, which has an unpleasant fluid rasp to it, and trails off into a cough. He carries on like nothing happened, which is pretty standard Chikara. He never likes to give illness room to breathe. “Is it at least _interesting_ homework?”

Kiyoji snorts. “It’s mostly math.”

“So, no, then. Awesome. You want to play Shin’s mindless shooter for a while or something? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a million years.”

“It’s been three days, Chikara.”

“One. Million. Years.”

Kiyoji laughs. “Fine, fine. You win. Not like I wanted to go do my homework anyways.”

“Awesome, let me go get my mask so I don’t give you the black plague.”

Kiyoji sits in one of the kitchen chairs while Chikara grabs a surgical mask from the box in the hall closet. He can hear his friend mumbling to himself while he sorts through everything; there are a great deal of medical supplies in that closet.

Maybe he should make tea. Chikara’s probably already medicated to the gills, but tea might help with the cough.

It’s such a benign, normal moment to be broken by a wet, inhuman scream. Kiyoji can feel the noise in his teeth, and his skin crawls like he just put his hands into something unexpectedly slimy.

“Chikara?” he calls out, momentarily convinced that his friend has just developed some new, horrible symptom previously unknown to humankind.

“What the fuck was that?” Chikara calls back, barreling back into the kitchen with his mask in one hand.

“I don’t know!” Kiyoji shouts, and then there’s that _sound_ again, vibrating into the space between Kiyoji’s ribs.

Chikara gasps and chokes on the intake of air, triggering a coughing fit. Kiyoji gets out of his chair to steady his friend, only to get knocked clean off his feet when something slams into the side of the house. It shakes the whole building like an earthquake.

Chikara stays standing, gasping for air and trembling. The noise from outside starts up again, a shrill scream that’s impossible to process. Kiyoji scrambles to get up, reaching for Chikara--

and the screaming turns into _words_ when he touches him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter carries a general body horror warning, including descriptions of rotting flesh. there’s also descriptions of a character struggling to breathe, very brief vomiting, and a bit with maggots.
> 
> You can avoid the part with the maggots by skipping the paragraph that starts “The sight waiting for him outside”.
> 
> As an additional note, I have updated the authors notes at the beginning of the first chapter to include more information about general themes that might be upsetting or triggering. Please give it a read! If you need any further details to read safely, you can message me on tumblr or leave a comment!

**_YOU WERE BORN TO BE MY VESSEL._ **

The words hit Kiyoji like a blow to the head, and he staggers back from Chikara. The moment he breaks contact, the screaming continues but the meaning blanks out. The shift makes it even worse, like the brief stint of meaning scrubbed his inner ear with sandpaper. The room is spinning and his vision won’t focus, a horrible headache spiking behind his eyes.

“Chikara,” he gasps, reaching back out for his friend. The colors of everything in the room are bleeding into each other, but he can still make out Chikara taking an unsteady step towards the door. “What…”

Kiyoji chokes before he can finish that thought, his throat suddenly spasming. He coughs so hard it makes him gag. He can’t _breathe_ , he’s going to throw up and he’s got to be dying, his lungs are burning--

There’s a brief break in the screaming. Kiyoji wheezes around a sudden chestful of air, his whole body shaking with the effort of it. 

His ears stop ringing just in time to hear the door shut. 

He frantically blinks away tears to find himself alone in the room. A cold wave rushes through his stomach.

“Chikara!”

He makes a run for the door, stumbling on shaky legs.

The sight waiting for him outside sends another wave of nausea through his gut. The creature looks like a horse, but Kiyoji also knows immediately that it is _not_ a horse. It has no eyes, just hollow sockets, something putrid oozing from them. At first glance, its pelt looks white, but as Kiyoji’s eyes adjust to the darkness, he realizes he’s actually looking at thousands of maggots.

Even eyeless, it stares down a frozen Chikara. Kiyoji can hear his friend’s shuddering breath in the sudden silence.

“Fuck,” Kiyoji breathes, momentarily stunned before he forces himself to keep moving forward. “Chikara, what the hell are you--”

The creature opens its mouth. Kiyoji has time to process the rotten teeth and spray of bodily fluids before the scream makes his knees give out. Still, he’d gotten close enough. He braces himself on the ground with one hand, and grabs a handful of Chikara’s sweatpants with the other.

The words filter back through the noise.

**_PITY. THAT IS ALL THEY FEEL FOR YOU. CHILDREN OF MEN FIND THEIR STRENGTH IN THE WEAKNESS OF OTHERS, AND YOU, CHIKARA HIROSE, ARE EMPTY AND FRAIL. THEY PROTECT YOU NOT OUT OF AFFECTION, BUT OUT OF OBLIGATION._ **

Kiyoji’s chest aches from the force behind the words, but this time, he doesn’t let go.

“No,” he grits out, and it’s hard to breathe enough to even manage that. “That’s not…”

Chikara breaks eye contact with the horse. There are tears streaming down his face, but his expression is blank. Kiyoji coughs and spits onto the dirt, trying to clear his throat enough to force out a sentence. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, only how important it feels.

**_YOUR EFFORTS TO HIDE WHAT YOU ARE WILL FAIL. THEY WILL WATCH YOUR BODY DIE AND IT WILL BE A BURDEN, NOTHING MORE._ **

“You aren’t a burden,” Kiyoji insists, slurring the words in an effort to get them out at all. “Chikara, don’t listen to it, it’s lying!”

Chikara’s mouth twitches and he visibly swallows. The horse snorts and turns its gaze on Kiyoji.

_**DO NOT INVOLVE YOURSELF, CHILD OF MAN. DIE QUIET WITH THE REST, AND TAKE IT AS THE BLESSING THAT IT IS.** _

Bile rises in Kiyoji’s throat and he lurches forward to vomit. Breaking contact with Chikara makes the voice go away again, and it takes a moment before he can even get enough control of his muscles to sit up.

When he does, he finds that the horse has stepped closer, jaw open unnaturally wide to press a rotting approximation of a tongue to Chikara’s face and neck.

“Leave him alone!” Kiyoji says, adrenaline pushing through the malaise to help him get back on his feet. He has no plan; he mindlessly throws himself at the creature.

It’s a mistake. The flesh gives way under his weight, pulling him in. The smell of decay is overpowering, worming under his skin and into his bones. The knowledge that he is going to die floods him and he cries out in animal terror.

Distantly, he becomes aware of another voice.

_**you wanted to be bright and shining and untouchable** _

The voices are getting more and more muffled as the creature pulls Kiyoji into its body, but he still hears Chikara call out in pain.

_**you will never be untouchable** _

Kiyoji’s nose and mouth are covered now. He can’t breathe and he can’t get to his friend.

_**but neither is anyone else** _

He closes his eyes and tries to be anywhere else, to not feel whatever is about to happen.

_**now burn whoever says you are not worth something as you are** _

“PHOENIX!”

Chikara’s voice is accompanied by a wave of heat. Kiyoji hits the ground, gasping for air. He opens his eyes and is greeted with a swath of flame, the rancid smell of decay displaced by smoke. The creature screams again as the flames beat against its body like blows, but this time, Kiyoji’s vision doesn’t spin.

Chikara, also freed from the horse’s hold, drops to his knees next to Kiyoji.

“Can you breathe? Kiyoji, I need you to talk to me, what did it do to you--”

Kiyoji coughs violently and Chikara helps him sit up.

“I can--” Kiyoji breaks halfway through his thought to gasp for air. “I can breathe. What the fuck _is_ that thing?”

“I don’t know!” Chikara says, his voice high with panic.

The horse’s hooves strike the ground and the tremor makes Kiyoji’s guts twist. Chikara, still holding him up with one hand, throws out the other. “Persona!”

The whirl of flames comes again, and this time Kiyoji is aware enough to make out that it’s a _bird_. Its wings close around the horse, and the crackle of fire splits the night air. The horse rears back, screaming as it burns.

_**YOUR REJECTION IS POINTLESS. YOUR DESTINY IS SET IN STONE, IMMALLEABLE AND TIMELESS. WHEN ALL IS DONE, YOU WILL BE THE RIDER OF THE WHITE HORSE.** _

“Fuck you!” Chikara shouts back, a far cry from his lifeless stare only moments before. The flaming bird responds to the expletive with another barrage, and the horse suddenly _bursts_. The gore splits into a horde of rats that disappear into the darkness, leaving behind the smell of singed flesh and a puddle of something horrific.

Kiyoji and Chikara stare into the emptiness left behind by the creature’s sudden disappearance, holding onto each other like they might collapse without the support.

The bird crows once in victory and then vanishes as well, taking the light with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beginning notes are all trigger stuff, so, I'll put my big loving thank you to my beta, Benny, here <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to Benny for being a wonderful beta who puts up with all my screeching <3
> 
> no major trigger warnings for this chapter!

The return of stillness allows Kiyoji to realize how hard he’s shaking. Chikara’s arm around his shoulders is the only thing keeping him sitting upright.

“What… what the _hell_ was that?” Kiyoji gasps, turning to look at Chikara. His voice sounds wrong, all scraped out and rough. He feverishly hopes that’s just because he threw up, and not something weird the horse did to his body.

“I… holy shit, I have no idea, but we need to get inside, like, _now_ ,” Chikara says, all in a rush. “Can you stand up?”

Kiyoji doesn’t even bother trying. “You’re gonna need to help me.”

“Yeah, dude, of course, come on--”

Chikara stands up and pulls Kiyoji along with him. Kiyoji can feel his own weight in his limp limbs, and Chikara staggers a little getting him to his feet. He doesn’t complain like he normally would, just takes Kiyoji’s weight and makes for the door.

They don’t get past the entryway. Chikara leaves Kiyoji leaning against a wall so he can lock the door behind them, and sinks to his knees as soon as the lock clicks. Kiyoji follows his example, sliding down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor.

For what might be minutes or hours, they just stay there, the only light coming from the kitchen down the hallway. In the quiet, Chikara’s helpless sob feels deafening. Kiyoji pushes away from the wall and half crawls, half drags himself the few feet separating him from his friend.

He hugs Chikara as tightly as he can manage, until he can’t tell which of them is shaking.

*

In the end, they probably spend more time on the floor than they actually spent in the presence of the creature.

Eventually, Kiyoji’s heart stops pounding in his ears and Chikara gets the hiccups from crying. The intense terror of the moment fades out.

“You okay?” Kiyoji asks, the question muffled by Chikara’s shoulder. They haven’t separated yet.

“No,” Chikara mumbles, before shaking his head minutely. “No, I’m not okay, but-- but I’m not bleeding or anything. What about you? When it pulled you in, I thought--”

Chikara cuts himself off with another hiccupy sob.

“I’m okay,” Kiyoji assures him quietly.

“Thank god,” Chikara says, finally pulling away from Kiyoji a little bit so he can wipe his eyes. Kiyoji follows his example and lets go. Now that the adrenaline is going down, he’s noticing all the complaints from his body. Everything hurts and there’s an awful taste in his mouth. 

“I hate throwing up,” Kiyoji groans, pressing his palms into his eyes.

Chikara laughs like someone’s forcing it out of him. “Tell me about it.”

“We should… We should get up,” Kiyoji says, glancing nervously at the door. Now that he’s thinking a little more calmly, it feels awfully close.

“Yeah.”

Chikara has to help Kiyoji get to his feet, but after that, he finds he can stand. His legs aren’t shaking nearly as hard as they were a few minutes ago.

This time they make it as far as the kitchen. Chikara, seemingly on autopilot, starts making tea. Kiyoji, meanwhile, takes a seat in one of the kitchen chairs and puts his head in his hands.

“So that was a fucking demon,” Kiyoji says, after a long moment of listening to Chikara shuffling cups around. The clattering of glassware immediately stops.

“God, don’t just _say_ that,” Chikara groans. “This is unreal enough as is.”

“You know that’s what it was, dude. It’s like it was messing around in your head--”

“It wasn’t!” Chikara shouts, suddenly frantic.

Kiyoji stops, taken aback. “What?”

Chikara visibly collects himself, his expression and body language shifting to something more natural. Or, at least, Kiyoji always thought it was natural. Seeing his friend put a smile on like a mask is unsettling enough to make Kiyoji wonder how many others were faked.

“It wasn’t-- It wasn’t in my head. That shit it was saying, that’s not me. C’mon, Kiyo-kun, you know me, I’m not all mopey like that,” Chikara says, laughing weakly.

“Well. It was definitely lying,” Kiyoji says, slowly. It feels important that he word this right. “That bit about obligation--”

“Can we not talk about this? Please?” Chikara asks, voice strained. Kiyoji hesitates, but nods.

“How about we talk about the bird instead? What was _that_?”

Chikara’s shoulders relax a little, and he looks down at his hands. “I don’t know. It was like there were a million people screaming in my head, and then that _thing_ had you, and suddenly that was all that counted for anything. The whole rest of the world shut up, and I could hear the voice that knew what to do.”

“Woah.”

“Wait, you don’t think it’s another demon, do you?” Chikara asks, making a face.

“No way,” Kiyoji says, shaking his head. “It felt too warm for that.”

“Kiyo-kun, it was made of fire.”

“Not like that!” Kiyoji snaps back. “It felt like _you_ , Chikara.”

Chikara’s ears turn pink and he hurriedly puts something resembling his playful smile on his face. “Warm, just like me, huh?”

“Stop fishing for compliments, this is important.”

Chikara sighs. “Okay, fine. I don’t really know how I did it. It just needed to do something, and then… there it was. Fire bird.”

“Well, I guess it makes as much sense as anything else that just happened,” Kiyoji says, frowning. “Maybe we should call Fuyumi. She knows about spirits and curses and stuff.”

“Even Fuyumi’s not going to believe this one, Kiyo-kun.”

“Hey, we’re not the ones who would make up some stupid prank like this. Shinsuke isn’t here.”

“Shin or no Shin, she’s not going to believe anything about this. Except maybe the part where you threw up.”

“Ugh, shut _up_ , Chikara.”

“Come on, Kiyo-kun, you wouldn’t believe me either.”

Kiyoji sighs. “Maybe not, but I’d still want you to tell me. What if it comes back?”

Chikara freezes and the smile drops right off his face. “It won’t.”

“You can’t know that. We don’t even know where it came from--”

Chikara groans and steps back to lean against the counter. “Fuck, fine. We’ll tell them. Maybe this will still turn out to be a bad dream.”

That raises a good point. Kiyoji glances back out into the hallway, where he can just see the front door. “Hey, uh. Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Kiyo-kun. You seriously think I’m letting you leave after that?”

Kiyoji laughs nervously. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go call my mom.”

“Tell her I said hi.”

*

Kiyoji fully expected to get no sleep tonight, but before they’re even done setting up the spare futon, it hits him how exhausted he is. He’d been full of energy on the walk over here, but whatever that horse did drained it all out of him.

Chikara isn’t much better off, alternating between yawning and fresh rounds of coughing. Kiyoji lets him have the bathroom first.

Chikara’s bedroom is almost as familiar as his own, the constantly shifting mess just part of its charm. His school books are mixed in haphazardly with battered light novels, there are video game cases on the floor, and plush toys won from crane games are piled haphazardly on his desk, trophies from Shinsuke’s least useful skill.

Kiyoji feels a little better in here than he did downstairs. He goes through Chikara’s dresser without a second thought to find a pair of pajama pants to borrow. The ones he grabs have little burgers printed on them; it’s always been unclear where Chikara finds things like this.

He changes in Chikara’s room instead of waiting for the bathroom, making a half-hearted attempt at folding his uniform to set aside. He’s going to have to wear it tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to find something horrible on it when he looks at it in the daylight. That it _isn’t_ covered in slime or horse guts or something is still a pleasant surprise.

“Your turn,” Chikara says as he opens the door. He’s obviously half-asleep.

“Thanks,” Kiyoji says, patting his friend on the shoulder as they cross paths at the doorway.

By the time Kiyoji finishes washing his face, Chikara is dead to the world, face down on his pillow. Kiyoji turns the lights off as he comes back in and carefully finds his way through the debris of Chikara’s life to get into the spare futon.

Chikara’s stuffy snoring doesn’t keep him awake any more than memories of the horse do. He’s out almost immediately.

*

Someone is playing the church’s pipe organ.

Kiyoji comes into awareness curled up on the floor. He can’t really call it waking up, because it isn’t gradual. One second, he’s nowhere. The next, he’s laying on a half-decayed rug over stone flooring, entirely awake.

He sits up to take in the room. He’s been here before; he recognizes the velvet lining the pews and the shards of colorful glass on the floor. Someone has cleared the glass in a perfect circle around where he was sprawled out, keeping him from cutting himself.

“Oh, he’s here again!”

The little girl’s voice gets his attention, but when Kiyoji looks up, the old man is waiting for him. The wild look in his eyes is startling enough that Kiyoji scrambles to stand up, uncomfortable being at his feet. The old man just smiles.

“So you’ve decided to make yourself a place here. How very interesting.”

Kiyoji opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“Ah, but you do not have a contract. To do business here, you will need one.”

“Master, we do not have a contract for him.”

“True. We do not. Yet, he is contracted nonetheless. There are fates that are merely a matter of old debts.”

The old man hands a sheet of paper over to the little girl. She barely glances over it before she gasps.

“Oh. Oh, I understand.”

Her body language softens immediately, and she smiles as she passes the paper to Kiyoji, who takes it without thinking.

It’s a copy of his employment contract at Leblanc. He recognizes his own signature, carefully written to impress his new boss with his penmanship but smudged by a nervous hand right at the end.

When he looks up to ask where it came from, the old man and the little girl are gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to my beta benny for helping with this chapter!! they always catch things I didn't think of <3

Kiyoji wakes up with Chikara’s face about 6 inches from his own. They blink at each other for a long moment, Kiyoji confused and Chikara frowning.

“Uh. What the--”

“Tell me the horse wasn’t real,” Chikara insists, cutting him off.

Kiyoji stares at him for a second, until the memory of last night hits him. He groans and covers his face with his hands.

“No, I think that really happened.”

Chikara steps away from the spare futon and laughs. He sounds close to hysterics. “Great! Awesome! That sucks!”

Kiyoji sits up and pushes his palms into his eyes. His head hurts. “It sure fucking does.”

*

“Kiyoji-kun! I didn’t know you were visiting!”

Chikara’s dad is a bright and cheerful man, a mirror image of his son in both temperament and facial features. Anyone with even passing knowledge of Chikara would recognize them as father and son. He’s halfway through making breakfast when Chikara leads the way into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Hirose-san,” Kiyoji says, forcing a smile. He doesn’t really want to have to fake a good mood for his friend’s family right now.

“Does your mom know you’re here?”

“Yeah, I called her last night. I stopped by to bring Chikara his homework and we got distracted, seemed smarter to just spend the night.”

“Sounds good, just making sure I don’t get hauled off for kidnapping!”

Chikara groans goodnaturedly. He’s feeling moderately better today, Kiyoji can tell. He had a coughing fit halfway through his freakout upstairs, but his breathing has been a lot clearer since.

“You going to school today, Chikara?”

Chikara looks mildly affronted by his dad’s question. “Do I look too sick to go to school?”

“Just making sure you’re not pushing yourself. Keep an eye on him, Kiyoji-kun.”

“I always do,” Kiyoji says. “Otherwise he’d probably wander off.”

“Which one of us got lost on the aquarium field trip and had to have the teacher paged over the loudspeaker? Because I don’t think it was me,” Chikara says, making a face.

“That was the fourth grade!”

“And, miraculously, it’s still funny.”

“Boys, boys. That’s enough. Sit down, breakfast will be done soon,” Chikara’s dad says, laughing.

“We don’t really have time to eat, Dad. We’re going to be late.”

Chikara’s dad waves him off. “I can drive you to school.”

Chikara’s expression twists for a second. “But then _you’ll_ be late.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just eat something. It’s not a good idea to skip breakfast, especially when you’re just getting over a cold.”

Chikara hesitates, then sighs and puts his schoolbag down. “Yeah, fine.”

Kiyoji is relieved. He’s way more afraid of what might be lurking outside of Chikara’s house than he is of being late for school.

“I’m going to text Fuyumi,” Chikara says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “She’ll vouch for us if we’re late for homeroom.”

“Just text the group chat. Shinsuke will feel left out and make a whole fuss about it.”

“Good point. He’s such a baby,” Chikara says fondly.

A moment later, Kiyoji’s phone buzzes with a notification.

`[Chikara sent a sticker! The image is a cartoon pig yawning with the words ‘good morning’ written over it in bubble lettering.]`

`[Shinsuke sent a sticker! The image is the chat program’s mascot waving.]`

`**Shinsuke:** dude you weren’t online at all yesterday`

`**Shinsuke:** are you okay??`

`**Fuyumi:** Good morning, Chikara-kun.`

`**Chikara:** a lot happened!!! but nobody died ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́)`

`**Kiyoji:** yeah BARELY`

`**Kiyoji:** we’ll tell you guys at school but some crazy shit happened last night`

`**Fuyumi:** I leave you two alone for two hours… (￢_￢)`

`**Fuyumi:** What caught fire this time?`

`**Kiyoji:** you are drastically underestimating what I mean by crazy shit`

`**Shinsuke:** ???????`

`**Chikara:** we’ll explain later!! can you guys let the teacher know we might be a little late?`

`**Shinsuke:** wait both of you???`

`**Kiyoji:** yeah, I ended up sleeping over`

“Phones down, boys! Food incoming!” Chikara’s dad says, setting plates down on the table noisily. Kiyoji startles halfway through typing his next message and confuses the hell out of his phone’s predictive texting.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you! Eat up, education awaits!”

Chikara rolls his eyes in Kiyoji’s direction while he accepts his breakfast. “Thanks for the food.”

His first bite of food reminds Kiyoji’s stomach that he never ate dinner last night. It’s enough of a distraction that he doesn’t notice Chikara’s dad leave the room until he hears the front door open.

The response is immediate. Chikara drops his chopsticks, and the two of them exchange a brief, terrified look. It’s a flurry of motion from there, Chikara standing up so fast he knocks his chair over and Kiyoji scrambling to follow him.

By the time they get there, Chikara’s dad is already outside.

“Dad!”

Chikara’s dad turns to look at them when they burst through the front door, looking alarmed.

“Hey, hey, you guys okay?”

“We didn’t--” Chikara says, but cuts himself off. His eyes dart around the yard, and Kiyoji follows his gaze.

There’s almost no evidence of what happened last night. The puddle the horse left behind has disappeared, replaced with a patch of dead grass. Kiyoji only notices it because he’s looking-- this late in the year, the rest of the grass isn’t doing much better.

Chikara’s dad notices where they’re looking, and frowns.

“Chikara, did you throw up on the lawn last night? Are you sure you’re good for school today?”

There’s a beat of silence. Kiyoji can see his friend weighing options, trying to decide how much to share. In the end, he just points at Kiyoji.

“Wasn’t me.”

“Hey!”

Chikara’s dad doesn’t look any less baffled. “ _Kiyoji-kun_ threw up on the lawn?”

“Kiyo-kun keeps trying to drink black coffee to impress his boss, doesn’t agree with him,” Chikara explains, much quicker with an excuse than Kiyoji would have been.

Probably because it isn’t technically a lie.

“Stop telling people about that,” he mutters, elbowing his friend.

“Well, I guess the lawn is preferable to the floor,” Chikara’s dad says, shaking his head with a sigh. “Lighten up on the coffee, okay, Kiyoji-kun?”

“Yeah, okay,” Kiyoji agrees reluctantly, shooting Chikara another glare.

*

The ride to school feels weird, and it’s clear Kiyoji isn’t the only one feeling it. Chikara seems restless, tapping his fingernails on the car door until Kiyoji is about ready to strangle him, and Chikara’s dad keeps up a stream of small talk to fill the empty space his son usually chatters through. Kiyoji is relieved to make it to school, just to get out of the polite questions about his job and family.

The bell rings pretty much the moment they’re out of the car, and Chikara swears before setting off at a run.

“Hey, wait for me!” Kiyoji protests, chasing after him.

They make good time to the second floor, but it really isn’t worth it-- Chikara stops at the stop of the stairs, struggling to catch his breath around the rasp in his chest. It sounds painful.

“What was that?” Kiyoji asks, scowling as he finally catches up. He’s a little out of breath himself, and he isn’t coming off a chest cold. “Do you have some kind of vendetta against your lungs?”

“We’re late,” Chikara says, still panting.

“I don’t think attendance is our biggest problem today, dude.”

“My dad drove us so we’d be on time,” Chikara says, not looking Kiyoji in the eye. He starts walking again, still not breathing right, and Kiyoji doesn’t know what to do but to follow him.

*

“Honestly, Chikara-kun, I thought you were a better liar than that.”

Fuyumi lets them get through the whole story before she dismisses it. That’s honestly more than Kiyoji would have given them in her place, so she gets credit for that.

They’ve got their usual spot in the classroom for lunch, Shinsuke’s various snacks spread out across his desk. His parents run a convenience store, so he’s always got something to eat on him. Kiyoji is thankful for that today-- Chikara has a bento from his dad, but Kiyoji was a surprise this morning and didn’t get one.

“I want to be invited to your next ghost story night,” Shinsuke complains. “You guys suck at it, you need my stellar storytelling abilities.”

“The bit where the horse licked you was inspired, but exploding into rats? Really?” Fuyumi says.

“It really happened!” Kiyoji says, trying not to sound whiny. From the look Fuyumi gives him, he doesn’t pull it off.

“Sure, as a shared fever dream,” Shinsuke says. He’s eating from a bag of Chikara’s favorite prawn chips, tilting them towards Chikara every few bites so they can share.

“Can you have shared nightmares like that?” Chikara asks, directing the question at Fuyumi.

“No,” Fuyumi says, clearly stating the obvious.

Chikara groans. “I don’t _want_ it to be real, though.”

“Well, it was! Chikara, why don’t you show them that bird?” Kiyoji asks.

“What? No way, I’m not lighting a fire in the classroom.”

“Also, the bird isn’t real. There’s also that,” Shinsuke adds.

“After school, then,” Kiyoji pushes.

“You are way too committed to this joke,” Fuyumi says.

“I almost died!”

And maybe Kiyoji was too loud with that last comment, because out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ichiru Kamisaki turn to look at him. Kiyoji shoots his classmate an awkward smile. Ichiru flushes and ducks his head, pretending to take a sudden interest in his food. Kiyoji turns back to his friends, whispering this time.

“After school. We’re doing this after school.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [xenosaurus](http://xenosaurus.tumblr.com)
> 
> art carried over from the original version of the fic:  
> [by 4nimenut!](http://4nimenut.tumblr.com/post/164407989473/doodled-future-domestic-shukita-based-from)
> 
> [by snailling!](http://snailling.tumblr.com/post/164527594250/whoops-i-drew-the-kids-xenosaurus)


End file.
